


Breakable Human, Breakable Alien

by majimarkjin



Series: Hand and Glove [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Because Bruce changes program like he changes his Robin, Bottom Clark Kent, Boys Kissing, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Clark Kent Needs a Hug, Gay Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nipple Licking, Pre-canon maybe, Supers in love, Top Bruce Wayne, Uni graduate Clark Kent, Uni student Bruce Wayne, and sex, everybody needs a hug, is superbat's genre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majimarkjin/pseuds/majimarkjin
Summary: This is their last night. This is their goodbye.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Hand and Glove [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001775
Comments: 9
Kudos: 86





	Breakable Human, Breakable Alien

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses. This is angst and porn mixed together for purely self-indulgent purposes.
> 
> Update: This is now a part of a different series other than Hand and Glove since I have written a few more stories regarding this, but everything can still be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> Happy reading!

Bruce had to leave and train if he was going to fight crime and protect his city.

Clark had to leave and search for his origins if he wanted to find himself and finally live his life freely.

They came to an end one night and nothing could have prepared them for it.

* * *

Clark woke up with a startle, mind racing fast and heart beating violently due to the nightmare filled with vivid images of some doctors experimenting, which would have been normal if he was not the one strapped on a medical bed as the experiment.

The visions were still in Clark's mind. He shook his head as his eyes adjusted in the dark, suddenly remembering that he was in Bruce's dorm room. He already completed university, but was still terrified of being experimented on. 

With a sigh, he glanced beside him, only to find Bruce already looking at him, confusion and wariness evident in his eyes. Clark glanced at his hand and realized he was holding Bruce's wrist tightly—too tight for a normal young adult.

_Oh, god._

Clark let Bruce's wrist go and took the blue ring on the side table, almost falling when he stood up way too quickly to move away from Bruce as if the man was the one who hurt him.

How could he forget how breakable humans were? How breakable Bruce was?

Bruce immediately sat up, already reaching out a hand for Clark to take. “Clark?” He tentatively called out when the younger man only stared at it.

 _Oh, god_ —Clark blanched—there were marks forming already. Marks that he left.

Bruce noticed the horror-stricken look and was only able to put one foot on the floor before Clark was already halfway across the room, terrified of what other things he could inflict even though he could feel the blue ring, that he did not know the origins—like himself—but only knew it works, already affecting him.

“Clark! Hey, it's okay,” Bruce said and took a step forward. “I'm okay, Kansas. Please come back to me.”

Clark shook his head. “I could hurt you.”

“You won't– You won't, okay? And if you ever did, trust in me that I'll tell you.” Bruce tried to reassure him, taking another step forward.

Clark merely looked at him for too long, Bruce felt like he was drifting away from him— _no._

“Clark,” Bruce called out once again as his eyes softened. “Kansas, do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, B! It's me I don't trust,” Clark cried. He doesn't want to hurt Bruce.

Bruce's heart hurt as he felt it break at the statement. How in the world could this man—this wonderful, kind, generous man—not trust himself, but trust him? Bruce knew he did not deserve it, so he simply took Clark's arm, slowly wrapping his fingers around the latter's wrist before pulling him into an embrace. “Then just trust me when I say I trust you and that you will never hurt me. Can you do that?”

Clark, who was a few inches shorter, looked up at Bruce. His eyes still full of tears, eyebrows furrowed in worry, lips slightly trembling, and cheeks red from crying. 

Bruce took those rosy cheeks in his large hands, wiping the tears that continuously fell from those baby blue eyes. “Can you do that, Kansas? Trust me?”

Clark could only nod, not trusting his voice, and especially not trusting himself.

Bruce brought them back to the bed and let Clark crawl on his lap. He slowly traced circles on his back to calm him down. It took some minutes before Clark lifted his head from the crook of Bruce's neck, eyes puffy and cheeks rosy from all the crying. Bruce brushed some curls away from Clark's solemn face and wiped tear stains off his cheeks.

Clark watched Bruce carefully as the man lightly caressed his cheeks. To a normal human, it would have felt like a soft brush of fingers, but to Clark, Bruce took over his senses—felt every stroke of his fingers, hear his blood rushing, and smell his natural scent—that he almost missed what the man was saying.

“You know I'm not a romantic so this is probably the most anticlimactic confession in the world,” Bruce started, cradling Clark's face gently, “but I don't care because I may not be able to tell you this ever again.”

_Since we both know we have been saying goodbye for some time now._

“Bruce...” Clark muttered and took the hand that was on his face.

Bruce's heartbeat started to race and he felt like his stomach was doing this weird flipping thing which was ridiculous—Bruce Wayne never got nervous—except when he was about to confess his feelings to a beautiful, kind, and smart man, who also happened to be his best friend, and maybe boyfriend—because, of course, if one of you were an alien and the other an emotionally repressed man more than half of the time, labels were the last thing you would think about.

“I love you.” Bruce said. _More than you could ever know._

Clark was not sure how long it took him to reply—he could only stare at Bruce's face, the paleness, the freckles, and he _could only listen,_ to every stutter of breath, every flutter of eyes, every skip of heartbeat—but he noticed Bruce starting to fidget under the awkward staring.

“Bruce, I love you too,” Clark said in a hurry, some beats too late already, then laughed wholeheartedly and added, “I will always love you. Even when you’re old, wrinkly, and extra cranky.” 

_Whether I come back in your life by that time or not._ Clark shook the thought away.

“Thank you. But I probably won’t last that long,” Bruce said with that small self-deprecating smile, but Clark actually resuscitated his whole being as he felt every word deep in his core. But Clark did not know that.

Clark inhaled sharply, shaking his head fervently in opposition. He pulled Bruce's face closer and gave a light peck to those soft, inviting lips. “You will. I'll make sure of it. I'll protect you.”

 _And I want to protect you—want to do everything with and for you—but we're both leaving. You won't let me and I won't be able to anyway._ Bruce thought, but did not say any of the words. 

“You make me want things I can't have,” Bruce whispered, chuckling and shaking his head as if he found it funny.

Before any word escaped from their lips again, Bruce took Clark's face and brought their lips together for a kiss. 

_I may not be able to say any of the words I want to say to you, but let me show you how much I love you._

Bruce carefully lifted Clark and lay him down slowly. For a moment, he only stared. Bruce noticed how Clark's tan complexion was a contrast against the white sheet of the bed, how the man could rival anyone's looks by simply wearing one of his hoodies that was too large on him and a fitted pair of jeans that was tattered and worn out, and how he could still be this beautiful, with his eyes and cheeks red from crying and lips wet from their kiss. Oh, those lips that reassured and comforted him on more than one occasion. Bruce pressed them against his once again. He had to show how much he appreciated those lips—how much he loved them. 

Bruce kissed Clark fast and hard, all teeth and tongue.

_Don't let go just yet._

He licked, sucked, and bit.

_Don't go just yet._

It seemed like Clark could hear Bruce's thoughts as he wrapped his arms around those wide shoulders, two large bodies pressed tightly against one another—pressed tightly together.

Clark kissed Bruce just as hard and rough—as desperately and frantically—as if they were running out of time.

Because they were. They were running out of time and—thinking back to all the memories they shared, all the crazy shit they did, and all the words that were spoken between them—they realized their only crime was thinking they had all the time.

So, they kissed. They kissed as if it was their last, and they shed all their clothes and touched. They touched—every inch, every hollow, every crook—mapping, and exploring their bodies—every scar, every strand, every bump—never wanting to forget.

Bruce left open kisses on Clark's sharp jaw and then on his neck and collarbone, sucking like he was thirsty and starving and Clark was the only sustenance he ever had.

They could hear everything—every breath, every grunt, every sigh, every gasp, every moan—that escaped from their lips.

Bruce left wet kisses on Clark's chest, giving those impressive pecs a squeeze before licking his left nipple, catching the bud between his teeth—sucking and biting—then licking it again. He did the same on the other bud, leaving Clark a writhing mess underneath, mind hazy and body in ecstasy.

They could feel the cold air, their warm bodies, the slick between them, every tremble, and the tension.

Bruce found Clark's hip bone, leaving soft kisses at first and then sucking harshly, wanting to leave marks—a proof that this night, that this moment truly happened—even if only for a short time. He left Clark untouched, gently flipping the man to his stomach, face flat on the bed and hips raised in the air. He ran his fingers down Clark's muscular back until his hands reached that round ass, squeezing it with raw hunger as he parted the cheeks to get a look at the virgin hole that was his to take.

_Mine._

Bruce let out an involuntary growl at the sight—untouched and untainted—and could not stop himself from inhaling Clark's scent first—face buried deep in his ass, nosing the delectable hole—before fully tasting him, Bruce's breath warm and his tongue flat and wet on Clark that the man shuddered and let out a long, loud moan at finally being touched and tainted _._

Bruce was merciless. He never stopped licking and sucking and tasting as he prepared Clark for the taking. He wanted it to be as comfortable and as pleasurable as possible, slipping a warm, slick finger slowly inside Clark's tight hole— _when and where did Bruce get a lotion?_ —to open him up, but the notion made him squirm due to the odd, unfamiliar feeling of being probed.

“Are you okay, Clark?” Bruce asked, voice gruff.

Clark hummed; his voice muffled slightly as he spoke against the bed sheet. “More please.”

Bruce grunted, planting a kiss on Clark's lower back. He curled another finger inside, scissoring Clark open and thrusting quicker this time. As soon as the discomfort turned into pleasure, Clark found himself pushing himself back into those fingers. Bruce found Clark's prostate when the latter was busy trying to tone his senses down so that he would not embarrass himself and come too early, but the brush of finger had Clark almost choking on his own spit when he cried out in pleasure—He was euphoric _._

Bruce played his body perfectly and expertly touched him, brushing his fingers against his prostate on every other thrust while the other hand explored his chest, tweaking his sensitive nipples, caressing his abdomen, and squeezing his chest. He could not stop from shivering and crying out, his toes curled and knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets tightly.

They could smell the sweat, the sheets, each other, and themselves. It was intoxicating.

“More, Bruce,” Clark pleaded.

After adding the third and even fourth fingers, it did not take long until Bruce was pulling out. Clark immediately felt empty. But before he could react and say anything, Bruce was back, putting a condom on to make sure they were being safe.

Without a word, Bruce flipped Clark on his back before he— _fucking finally_ —aligned himself in him. The two of them shared a look.

“Clark—”

“Yes, Bruce, yes,” Clark answered before the question was even asked, looking at Bruce straight in the eyes, “please. I need you.”

 _Christ. When you beg like that._ Bruce kissed Clark long and hard and slowly pushed himself inside that pink, sensitive hole, trying to watch Clark's face, but the tightness and warmness— _Clark felt like a fucking furnace_ —made it difficult for him.

Bruce was average in length, but thicker than most and Clark could feel himself trying to adjust from the intrusion. Exhaling through his mouth, Clark slowly relaxed against Bruce until he was ready.

Bruce brushed some strands of hair away from Clark's forehead and left kisses all over his face as he let him adjust to his size.

Clark giggled when Bruce kissed his nose. “Move, B,"

Bruce kissed Clark. He started thrusting carefully at first until Clark started meeting him halfway, eyes tightly shut as he drowned in pleasure.

“Eyes on me Kansas.” Bruce wrapped his large hand around Clark's neck, his thumb forcing Clark to face him. Clark met his gaze and those bright blue eyes sent electricity down his spine. 

“Oh, Clark—” Bruce gasped and kissed Clark, rutting harder against him.

_Fuck._

“Bruce!” Clark cried in Bruce's lips.

Bruce kept on kissing and licking and biting Clark's neck and jaw and mouth, the world fading away until Clark's senses could only focus on him and Bruce—their ragged breath, the pounding of their hearts, the rush of their blood, the tightness of their hold, and the fullness of Bruce's cock in Clark's ass.

 _Let me have this._ Clark thought. _I know its selfish because I'm not meant for something this humane, but please let me have this one._

“Clark.” Bruce's voice was rasped as he called out. It was almost worship-like, as if he was praying for mercy and salvation.

 _Maybe I am._ The voice in Bruce's head answered. _I'm fucked up. I don't deserve any of this, but I'm a selfish creature, so I'll take—I'll take everything he's willing to give._

Their bodies moved against each other in sync. Bruce was thrusting slowly at first, then a little quicker. Roughly, but with a touch of gentleness. And Clark was there, following his lead without a doubt.

“Harder, Bruce,” Clark whined.

_I want to still feel you days—no, months after this is over—even if it's just the ghost of your touch._

Bruce grunted, but only held him closer, tighter.

“Let go, B,” Clark whispered in his ear and then proceed to lick it, his tongue hot and heavy.

“Let go for me.”

Bruce groaned so loud and hot; the sound went straight to Clark's cock. They were sure the students in the next room heard it.

_Fuck them._

With an almost animalistic look, Bruce pulled out from Clark to change their positions before thrusting, with so much force, all the way back in, hitting Clark in all the right places.

“Right there, right there— fuck!” Clark all but screamed when Bruce relentlessly pounded his ass, hitting his prostate directly that got his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Clark was delirious. Bruce did not stop fucking him into oblivion, placing one hand on his back for support and the other in between them, finally touching his cock—there was a strong hold around his shaft, a quick run of thumb over the head and between the slit before it landed on his balls—they were round and heavy, filling up with cum—massaging them which had him sobbing.

It took minutes, or maybe hours. They did not care as they got lost in the throes of passion—got lost in each other.

Clark's balls started to tighten. He wanted to make it last, but then his mouth went slack in a silent scream as he arched his back when Bruce shifted slightly, the new angle had Bruce's cock thrusting even deeper in him than he thought possible, with fingers squeezing Clark's balls and a thumb pressed on his perineum. His vision went hot and white for a moment as he came. He came so hard, his ass was almost sucking in Bruce's cock as the man rode him through his high.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Bruce did not even realize he was shouting because as soon as Clark came down from his high, Bruce reached his. He pulled Clark as close as he could, grunting and groaning loudly in his lips when Clark tightened around him to milk him dry as he was shooting his load.

And with a bruising kiss that was all teeth, tongue, and force, their moment was over.

For a few minutes, they were simply there, hugging, and still connected. Then, Bruce carefully pulled out—it still made Clark wince—checking Clark's body to see if he got hurt. He wiped the tears on Clark's cheeks that had dried and kissed his forehead before standing up, throwing the condom away. He came back with a towel to clean up. “Are you okay, Kansas?”

_Physically, yes. Mentally and emotionally, no._

Clark's eyes watered knowing the only thing he could do was watch Bruce as things between them were finally coming to an end. “B...”

Bruce glanced at Clark before putting the towel away. He lay down next to Clark without a word, pulling him closer as he stroked his side softly, peppering kisses on his shoulder, and prepared for the loss that was coming.

Bruce never let anyone in after his parents' murder, but he loved Clark. He loved him so much, he knew that if Clark asked him to stay, he would. But that was not the man Clark was because Clark was the most selfless person he ever met. He had to protect him. And if leaving him meant learning the ways to protect him and his city better, then he would. Bruce Wayne would do whatever it takes, he would move mountains and cross oceans no matter how impossible it may seem to be, all for Clark Kent.

Clark sighed as he melted in Bruce's arms, cherishing the moment as long as he could. He wanted to remember how Bruce's arms felt around his body—how it made him feel safe, as if he was human and in need of protection. He wanted to remember his lips, how soft and inviting it was. He wanted to remember his touch; how gentle it was when it comes to him even after punching many faces of rich bastards. But most importantly, Clark wanted to remember Bruce himself, not just the billionaire with anger and trust issues, not just the recluse but competitive student, not just the extremely intelligent conversationalist, and not just the repressed man but thoughtful best friend, but all sides of him—all of him. Clark Kent may never learn about his origins, but he had learned everything about Bruce Wayne and would always remember them like the back of his hand.

Bruce and Clark held onto each other one last time.

This was it. They both knew it would happen, but now that it was finally happening, it still shocked them. Their whole bodies felt numb and right now, they could not say if this was something they would ever recover from.

It was silent. It was suffocating. It was heartbreaking.

That was the first time the both of them learned that not all things make noise when they break.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay.
> 
> First of all, this is my first time writing a sex scene so please tell me if I did something wrong or it felt too forced or anything really; 
> 
> Second, it may be a little confusing, I think, because this was originally written for a Bruce Wayne/OFC fic, but angst + porn is definitely superbat's genre/theme so I changed and tweaked some (read: a lot of) things;
> 
> Third, some of you may think that I went ooc, but for me though, I think that pre-Batman Bruce was repressed, sure, but could still express his feelings if he really really wanted to. I also think that Clark just brings out that "human" side of Bruce—you know, the one where he has feelings and express them and actually act his emotions—because Bruce thinks that the extremely kind and honest Clark Kent deserves the same amount of kindness and honesty back. Just my opinion though;
> 
> Fourth, English is not my first language and these random one-shots that I have been writing are my ways to practice writing in English (and even thinking in English), so I'm still having a hard time with the "show don't tell" rule and if you want to, idk, criticize my writing style (of course, for the sole of improving them and hopefully not to discourage me), please feel free to do so; and
> 
> Lastly, I put a prompt or two in there that I, for the love of all cheese and superbat, can't seem to remember where I found them so if you guys know or if it's yours, please tell me so I could credit you properly.
> 
> Well, that's all. Feedback is always welcome.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
